Not long after, Geng Zhong returned with a complicated expression on his face. Copper coins he had plenty of, but gold was genuinely scarce. Scraping together what he could, he counted the larger ingots of silver into the mix and filled an entire large chest to the brim, then had his men carry it and present it before Old Zhang Zhenren.
Old Zhang Zhenren gave a satisfied nod. “Rest assured — once I reach Wulai City, I will not breathe a word of today’s business to the Slayer King.”
Geng Zhong exhaled with profound relief and offered his thanks a thousand times over.
The moment Geng Zhong departed, Old Zhang Zhenren began negotiating the division of the money with Li Chi, while Yu Jiuling felt increasingly like a court jester on the sidelines.
He crouched nearby and asked, “If I were to just take it by force, what do you suppose would happen?”
Li Chi said, “Rob my share. Leave Old Zhang Zhenren’s alone.”
Old Zhang Zhenren said, “Prince Ning is truly too generous.”
Li Chi said, “I simply fear losing him…”
Yu Jiuling was moved to tears.
Their ostentatious performance had one purpose: to obtain transit papers that would allow them unimpeded passage the rest of the way.
With the first set secured, would the second be any harder?
Geng Zhong, of course, dared not refuse. He not only issued the transit papers but also wrote a personal letter — brief but pointed — clearly explaining Old Zhang Zhenren’s party’s identities and credentials. That way, those manning the checkpoints ahead would not give them any further trouble. Of course, if Geng Zhong were in a position to be difficult about it, he rather would have liked to see the guards at the next checkpoint suffer the same misfortune he had — misery, after all, ought to be shared.
With Geng Zhong’s documents in hand, Li Chi and his party would encounter far fewer complications on their road to Wulai City.
They could not very well pull this same brazen impersonation at every checkpoint — not out of fear of being exposed, but because it would be tedious.
A spirit of wit and novelty has no patience for repetition.
That evening, Geng Zhong arranged a lavish spread at the general’s residence to see them off in style. It was quite the feast — after all, Geng Zhong no longer dared show even a trace of neglect.
“You seem a decent sort of person,” Old Zhang Zhenren said, regarding Geng Zhong. “Once I arrive in Wulai City and meet with the Slayer King, I’ll put in a word for you. How far your fortune takes you from there is entirely up to yourself.”
Those words alone prompted Geng Zhong to thank Old Zhang Zhenren profusely.
Just then, Old Zhang Zhenren’s eye fell on the jade thumb ring on Geng Zhong’s hand. It looked to be quite fine.
Old Zhang Zhenren smiled pleasantly and said, “In my youth, I studied under a wandering Daoist master and acquired some knowledge of the Daoist arts. Looking at your features, I can tell you are a man of fine prospects — great wealth and rank may well await you. But to read it more clearly, I would need to examine your palm as well.”
Geng Zhong lit up at once. “Old Patriarch, you can read fortunes?”
“A little,” Old Zhang Zhenren replied.
He had barely extended his hand to offer when Young Zhang Zhenren stepped forward. “Father, didn’t you teach me this? Let me have a look. If I read it wrong, you can correct me.”
Old Zhang Zhenren said, “You don’t need to—”
He caught sight of everyone watching and swallowed the rest of what he’d been about to say.
“You absolutely do not need to.”
“Whatever little you’ve picked up,” Old Zhang Zhenren pressed on, “if you read it poorly and embarrass someone—”
Young Zhang Zhenren had already snatched up Geng Zhong’s hand. “If I get it wrong, Father, you can point it out. I only want to practice my craft. Oh — by the way, I am the younger brother of the Mountain-Sea Army’s chief commander. It’s my elder sister who is to be wedded to your Slayer King.”
He gave a brief self-introduction, then examined Geng Zhong’s palm with great care and deliberation. One look was enough: this man was clearly destined for a short life.
So he said in a gentle tone: “Though there are indeed signs of great wealth and rank, your fate is riddled with hardship and misfortune. You will need the intervention of a benefactor to break through it — and as fortune would have it, that very benefactor stands before you this very moment.”
He glanced over at Old Zhang Zhenren. “My father is your benefactor. From here on, simply seek his counsel in all things.”
With that, he stepped back without a backward glance. Old Zhang Zhenren looked down — the thumb ring on Geng Zhong’s hand had already been slipped off and pocketed.
He let out a quiet sigh. *This rascal*, he thought, *is truly my disciple — he learns fast.*
Geng Zhong hadn’t yet noticed the ring was gone. He was still gazing hopefully at Old Zhang Zhenren, waiting for the promised unraveling of his troubled fate.
Yu Jiuling shifted his seat over to Young Zhang Zhenren and murmured in a low voice, “You don’t ride horses or shoot bows — that ring is useless to you. Why not let me have it?”
Young Zhang Zhenren said, “Thirty taels of silver.”
Yu Jiuling let out a dry laugh. “Heh.”
Young Zhang Zhenren said, “A piece like this would easily fetch a hundred gold — problem? I’m offering it to you for thirty taels of silver. Can you honestly say that’s not fair, and still refuse?”
Yu Jiuling said, “You swindled it. Swindled goods are stolen goods, and stolen goods don’t hold their value.”
Young Zhang Zhenren sighed. “Twenty-five. My lowest. Not a copper less.”
Yu Jiuling weighed it in his mind — if he were to sell the thing, it would certainly fetch a hundred gold. He gritted his teeth and handed over the money to purchase the thumb ring.
Having paid, he immediately felt something was off — a nagging, vague sense that he’d walked into a trap. He asked Young Zhang Zhenren, “Why are you so willing to part with it?”
Young Zhang Zhenren said, “You’ll understand shortly.”
Not long after, Old Zhang Zhenren casually brushed off Geng Zhong with a few perfunctory remarks and moved to sit beside Young Zhang Zhenren, asking, “Where is the thing?”
Young Zhang Zhenren pointed straight at Yu Jiuling. “He snatched it!”
In a very, very hushed tone, he said, “Master, you must stand up for me — he had the nerve to steal something that belongs to our Dragon-Tiger Mountain Daoist sect.”
Yu Jiuling’s eyes went wide. “What the—?!”
After spending the night there, they set out early the next morning. There was nothing here worth lingering for — the sooner they reached Wulai City and stirred up trouble for Gan Daode, the better.
The prospect of marching straight into enemy territory to cause mayhem didn’t concern them in the slightest. After all, they had strolled into the capital of Dachu and swindled the Emperor of Dachu himself — and if anyone had been swindled most thoroughly, it was the Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, Gui Yuanshu.
That man, once so clever and so adept at finding angles to his own advantage, was nothing but a blundering fool whenever he crossed paths with Li Chi and his crew.
When they departed, Geng Zhong personally escorted them thirty li before turning back. He looked genuinely reluctant to part — though that was almost certainly an act.
Perhaps he was repeating a quiet mantra to himself over and over: *a minor loss wards off greater misfortune, a minor loss wards off greater misfortune…*
The rest of the journey passed without significant difficulty. After all, who could have imagined that a group of people would so brazenly impersonate the Slayer King’s prospective father-in-law, his not-yet-wed wife, his younger brother-in-law — and of course, the not-yet-wed wife’s husband?
Gao Xining sat in the carriage and said very earnestly to Old Zhang Zhenren and the others, “Everything you’ve gained is entirely thanks to me. I am the real main character here.”
Old Zhang Zhenren said, “Prince Ning has already taken his share…”
Gao Xining said, “That was Prince Ning taking his share, not me. Old Zhenren and Prince Ning split it between themselves — but you still owe me a share, and then I’ll go settle up with Prince Ning after.”
Old Zhang Zhenren looked to Li Chi. Li Chi tilted his head back to gaze at the sky, thinking: *if staring at someone worked, Yu Jiuling and the others would’ve already bled me dry.*
In the end, since Gao Xining had indeed been the main character — she had played the role of the Slayer King’s future bride, after all, and they would be counting on her for the road ahead — Old Zhang Zhenren reluctantly cut her a portion of the silver swindled from Geng Zhong.
Gao Xining looked at Li Chi. “Give me yours too.”
Li Chi asked, “What do you need so much silver for?”
Gao Xining said very seriously, “I’m saving it to help you take a wife.”
Li Chi said, “You’re saving money for that, fine — but did you have to make it sound so touching…”
Meanwhile, in Wulai City.
A column of riders arrived outside the city gates — no carriage, all cavalry. By their dress, they were clearly not Dachu garrison troops. Dachu garrison troops would never venture into a place like Wulai City with a mere two or three hundred men — nor would they ever be able to.
“Who among you will go report to the Slayer King?”
One of the riders spurred his mount forward and addressed the gate sentries. “We are under imperial orders to escort an imperial envoy here — to deliver an edict to your Slayer King.”
The gate sentries burst out laughing. *Deliver an edict to us?* Did he think this place was still under Dachu court authority?
Seeing the mocking looks on their faces, the rider snorted coldly and said, “This edict was issued precisely because your Slayer King sent men to the capital requesting an audience with His Majesty to seek this very decree. Do you dare disrespect the will of your own king?”
That gave the sentries pause. They dared not delay any further.
The rider had spoken the truth. Just before Gan Daode had led his forces to Jizhou, he had found himself at leisure and fallen to thinking: he had eliminated more than a dozen large and small kings across Qingzhou — and all of them had been kings formally enfeoffed by His Majesty, the Emperor of Dachu.
Yet he, the greatest king in all of Qingzhou, was left without so much as a legitimate title. So he had dispatched men to the capital to request an enfeoffment from the Dachu Emperor — specifically, that he be named King of Qingzhou. If the title were granted, he would march his forces toward Jingzhou to assist the court armies in defending the capital. If it were not granted, he would march his forces toward Jingzhou anyway.
Shortly after that matter was sent off, Gan Daode received a handwritten letter from Mu Fengliu and marched his army to Jizhou — and had since forgotten all about the earlier request.
Before long, the messenger reached the Slayer King’s residence and relayed the whole affair. Only then did Gan Daode remember.
He immediately issued an order: “Go receive the imperial envoy into the city with gongs and drums — make sure all the people of the city know that His Majesty, the Emperor of Dachu, has sent an envoy to confer my royal title.”
For all his arrogance and overbearing nature, in an age like this, receiving an official enfeoffment from the Emperor was something no one could be indifferent to.
Why was it that so many rebel commanders — after being casually granted a royal title by the Emperor — suddenly began to conduct themselves like legitimate rulers?
Because they all understood, in their hearts, the difference between a self-proclaimed king and a king crowned by the Emperor. The two were not the same — and never would be.
A title bestowed by the Emperor was something that could genuinely bring honor to one’s name and lineage — something one could boast of with pride in proper company.
A self-proclaimed king, by contrast, amounted to nothing.
The vast majority of rebel commanders came from humble origins, and a royal title had once been something that existed only in their wildest dreams.
It was precisely because he understood this — because he knew there was profit to be had in it — that the Dachu Emperor, Yang Jing, had made a practice of this, heedless of the criticism it invited.
He understood that such a gesture carried no immediate harm and yielded many direct advantages.
Before long, the welcoming procession — all gongs and drums — arrived at the city gates. The Slayer King, Gan Daode, came in person to receive the envoy.
As the imperial envoy’s column entered through the gates, Gan Daode dropped to both knees in the gateway to greet the arriving envoy — a gesture of reverence to His Majesty, the Emperor of Dachu.
“Please rise, Slayer King.”
The imperial envoy did not dismount from his horse, projecting an air of studied arrogance.
But that was entirely in keeping with the manner of a court official — when had they ever truly regarded rebel commanders with any respect?
The imperial envoy said, “I ask that the Slayer King return to his residence at once, set up an incense altar and presentation table, bathe and change into formal attire, and prepare to receive the imperial decree.”
Gan Daode’s delight was such that he could not keep the corners of his mouth from curving upward — and he cared nothing for the envoy’s imperious manner.
“Yes!”
Gan Daode immediately replied, “I shall go and prepare to receive the decree at once. Please, Imperial Envoy, come this way.”
He gestured an invitation. The imperial envoy spurred his horse forward, his bearing as haughty as ever.
—